


Of Mages and Moon Men

by WizardofOzymandias



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Chantry Scholarship, Elvhen Ancient Aliens, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Snarky Mages Being Friends, Solas and Dorian Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardofOzymandias/pseuds/WizardofOzymandias
Summary: When Solas's interlibrary loans from the University of Orlais finally arrive at Skyhold, they turn out to be very different from what he expected. Fortunately, Dorian is there to help him laugh at the Chantry's ridiculous ideas about ancient elves.Set in the same universe as The Cult of Fen'Harel, this story is based on Blarfkey's suggestion that Solas and Dorian would have a blast mocking Brother Burbadur's work.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	Of Mages and Moon Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blarfkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarfkey/gifts).



Once the Inquisition had gotten settled in their new base at Skyhold, Solas finally felt ready to start his research in earnest. The trouble was, there were very few resources worth reading. While the Skyhold library contained a sizeable collection of books on magic, there were very few volumes on the Fade, so he had been forced to request books from elsewhere. Solas had been eagerly awaiting the interlibrary loans he had requested from the University of Orlais. Unfortunately, it had taken nearly three weeks to finally receive them. There were definite downsides to Skyhold’s isolation.

When the first shipment of books arrived, however, he was pleased to see that there were six whole crates of them. Varric had whistled at the load when he saw the servants carrying them in. “What’ve you got there, Chuckles, the entire imperial library?”

“If I thought it could be transported here, I would be tempted,” Solas replied. “These are only the first shipment of books on elvhen magic. I had to request whatever they had, as I didn’t have access to their catalog yet.”

“Good luck with that,” Varric said with a wave.

Once the crates were unpacked, however, Solas felt all the elation drain out of him. In the entire shipment, there were three books that looked to be interesting. Not necessarily useful, but at least interesting. Solas once again felt the frustration of having been out of the world for too long. Back in Arlathan, he had known where every book he needed sat in the great library. In this broken future, he didn’t even know what books existed. He had been lucky enough to find some of the volumes in Skyhold intact. Many of the books he had sought there had already crumbled to dust.

He sighed heavily at the sight of what he had dubbed the “rubbish pile.” While he had amassed four large stacks of books that were irrelevant to his research, there also were six towers of books that seemed like someone’s idea of a joke. Why anyone would think such books were actual volumes on elvhen magic was beyond him.

“What’s the matter down there?” came a voice from above.

Solas bit down hard on a sharp retort. Apparently, his sigh had attracted unwanted attention from Dorian. In the weeks since the Tevinter altus had joined the Inquisition, he had proven nothing but a nuisance to Solas. Yes, Dorian was brilliant and incredibly talented at magic, but he was also very flashy, arrogant, and opinionated. Solas could feel a headache coming on just from catching the man’s notice.

“Nothing that would hold any interest for you,” Solas called back. “And I would prefer to refrain from this shouting back and forth.”

Dorian grinned down at him. “That simply means I’ll have to come down and investigate.”

“There is no need—” but Dorian was already making his way to the staircase. Solas silently cursed the man’s nosiness.

When Dorian arrived at the ground floor, he looked wide-eyed at the piles of books. “You certainly didn’t skimp on your loan requests.” He made his way to one of the piles. “This is fascinating stuff. Might I borrow some of the books when you’ve finished with them?”

“Borrow away,” Solas said grumpily. “Most of these are useless, anyway.”

Dorian shot a quizzical look in his direction. “Useless? That seems a harsh ruling on books you haven’t even opened yet.”

“I’ve skimmed the majority. And then there are those.” Solas gestured to the largest pile, overflowing with the rubbish books.

“What exactly is wrong with those?” Dorian asked, then strode over to have a look. He pulled a book from the top of the nearest stack. It was a slim volume with a glossy cover, adorned with a painting of what looked to be an elvhen pictogram. “ _Chariots of the Elvhen Gods_ , by Brother Burbadur,” Dorian read aloud. “An unusual name for a Chantry scholar, but it seems innocuous enough.”

Solas rolled his eyes. “Take a look at the text,” he prompted.

“ _The first thing that must be understood is that the ancient elves were not at all like those of modernity_.” Dorian paused. “How is this different from what you tell Ellana and Sera?”

Solas gestured to the book. “The first sentence is not what I object to. Keep reading.”

“ _That is to say, they were not citizens of Thedas at all. For the ancestors of the elves now styled Dalish were in fact denizens of that heavenly body we call the moon._ ” Dorian clapped the book shut. “Are you sure Sera didn’t steal your books and replace them with these?”

“These came directly out of the crates from the University of Orlais,” Solas replied. “Most of the volumes here are authored by this same Brother Burbadur.”

“Surely not all of them are this bad.”

“Look again,” Solas prompted.

_The Ancient Elf Question: A New Inquiry into our Visitors from the Stars, The Elvhenan Connection: From the Sinking of Arlathan to the Rise of the Chantry, Beyond the Veil of History: The Real Story of the War between the Snake Kings and the Lords of Arlathan,_ and dozens of similarly titled volumes sat neatly stacked. All of them bore the name of Brother Burbadur.

“Oh, for the love of—you can’t be serious!” Dorian cried. “Exactly who is this hack writer, and how did he end up with the Chantry’s approval?”

Solas plucked a volume from the stack. “His biography states ‘he gave himself over to the service of the Blessed Andraste at the age of seventeen. Four years later, an expedition to the Dales opened his eyes to the truth of the ancient civilization of Arlathan. Once the truth had become clear to him, he retired to his hermitage in the wilds of the Emerald Graves, where he pens works that will enlighten the uninitiated. At the same time, he took the name Burbadur, for he knows that any sound but the ancient speech of the Moon Men is only a meaningless babble.’”

Dorian snorted. “What sort of absolute poppycock—” he flipped open another volume, titled _Finding Evidence of the Moon Men in the Chant of Light: What the Word of the Maker says about Elvhenan_. He read aloud: “ _The observant scholar will note the mention in Andraste I of ‘the wing'd cup-bearers of the tall sky-vaulting.’ What more obvious mention of the Moon People could be wished for? Of course, this raises the question of how the elvenkind lost their wings—_ ” he was interrupted by an uproarious laugh. Dorian looked over to see Solas laughing heartily at the book’s nonsense.

Once Solas had calmed himself enough to catch his breath, he grabbed a copy of Burbadur’s _Investigating the Snake Kings: Reptilian Rulers from the Skies_. “Listen to this one,” Solas said, still chuckling. “ _It is true that Arlathan fell because of the Snake Kings. But it was not, as many have supposed, a metaphorical fall. As the shattered ruins tell us, the great city of the ancient elves actually fell from its place on the moon. In fact, the great falling star observed in 8:47 Storm was likely another fragment of the great city, tumbling from the heavens_ —” Solas was laughing so hard his tears blurred the print.

Dorian was wheezing. He took another look at the stack and exclaimed, “But there are so many of them!” He began counting. “Thirty-seven! This man has written thirty-seven of these awful books!”

Solas grimaced. “Those were only the first six crates. I suspect there will be more of his work in the next five.”

“Well, at least they’re good for something.” Dorian began reading another passage aloud.

Almost two hours later, Solas and Dorian had pulled a pair of chairs up to Solas’s desk and were eagerly grabbing books off the stack and cackling at the contents.

Their mirth was interrupted by Leliana calling down to them, “What are you doing down there? You’re frightening my birds!”

“Research!” Dorian shouted back.

“Please keep it down!” Leliana chided him.

Dorian chuckled and looked at Solas. “It seems you aren’t such a wet blanket after all. Just present you with silly books about ancient elves and you’re downright companionable.”

Solas ignored Dorian’s attempt to bait him. “You are not such bad company yourself, Master Pavus. I would not have expected it.”

Dorian made a face. “Solas, I will promise never to insult your wardrobe again if you will promise to never refer to me as Master Pavus.”

“Does it irk you so much?” Solas couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I hope to be old and grey before I’m forced to go by Master Pavus.”

“Fair enough. I suppose we can consider this a cease fire between us?”

“Certainly!” Dorian held out his hand for Solas to shake. “I’ve never laughed at ridiculous Chantry scholarship with a better fellow.”

Solas shook Dorian’s hand. He found he was genuinely happy in the mage’s company, a rare occurrence since he woke from _uthenera_. It seemed the Inquisition would continue to surprise him. Perhaps he should isolate himself less, as Varric kept pestering him about. The more he spoke with the other members of the Inquisition, the more remarkable he found them. Perhaps, for the first time in time immemorial, he had found himself among friends.


End file.
